


1. Two guys step out of a bar

by Vera



Category: Chuck (TV), Discworld - Pratchett
Genre: Collection: Purimgifts Day 1, Community: 12in2010, Community: purimgifts, Crossover, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-22
Updated: 2010-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-07 11:27:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vera/pseuds/Vera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pump 19 was making a habit of rescuing people.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Two guys step out of a bar

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Roga](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Roga/gifts).



"Chuck? Chuck!"

He can't see. He can move his arms and legs, he thinks he might be lying down, lying on something hard and rock-like and very, very lumpy, but he can't see and his face is wet and clammy. Fear is like a spring that jacknifes Morgan vertical and dizzy, before he trips over something that turns out to be, as he finds himself horizontal again, softer than what he was previously on, just as lumpy and most likely Chuck.

"Ungh! Morgan?" Chuck's hands are on his head and there's a finger in his ear. "Where are we, Morgan?"

"Chuck, I can't see! I can't see! My face is wet and I can't see!" Morgan's voice is high with panic, fast and shrill.

There's a disgusting wet sucking sound as Chuck pulls something off Morgan's face. They both squint at it in the dim streetlight. It's something that may once have been a cabbage, perhaps only half a cabbage, flattened, deliquescing and ground in a coating of soot and dirt and indescribable somethings. Chuck drops it; Morgan stumbles back and smacks into a wall, a wall he immediately slumps against, needing every possible support in the current unknown - very, very unknown - circumstances. They'd just left Buy More. They'd been in the car park, about to get into the Nerdmobile and now: cobblestones, garbage, red street lights and what was going to be a mighty big bruise.

"Chuck --" he begins. Chuck will know what's going on.

Only Chuck, Chuck is looking up past him, further up the wall, with an expression on his face that was the very opposite of reassuring. Morgan looks up.

It is very tall, it is very broad and it is very, very much made of clay. Its eyes burn red like live coals. Exactly like live coals. The kind of coals made by burning wood in fire until it is red and hot and glowing. When it opens its mouth the alley is brightened by the red glow from its insides. Brightened, but not improved. In the case of this alley, the less visible, the better.

"Good Evening," it says. "Do You Need Assistance?"

Morgan feels the the voice like a volcano's rumble through his skin. He totters forward one unsteady step, then two, still looking up and behind. Chuck gently draws him away from the Golem to stand by his side. Stranger things have happened at sea, Morgan thinks.

"Hi," Chuck says, "You may have guessed that we're not from around here."


End file.
